Out Cold
by Risk It For The Biscuit
Summary: "Survival is Difficult and I Hate Everything", an autobiography. The idea of death being void and terrifying is a lie. No, it's what comes after which is hard, and I don't want to deal with this 'being reborn' thing again. My name is Rin Nohara, and the issue is, I'm supposed to die in the span of only thirteen years... I'm more or less planning to do what I do best and flee. OC-SI
1. Prologue: In Which Death is Rubbish

**Title: Out Cold**

 **Rating: T**

 **Disclaimer: Nah, I don't own Naruto. If I did, there would be a shitload less of dead people.**

* * *

Always look before both ways before crossing the road.

Also, never assume that you have the right of way when you can plainly see the person is going to turn anyway.

 _Why,_ might you ask, _are you telling me pointless road safety information?_

Well, to be honest, I wasn't sure to start, so I decided to go from the beginning. The beginning of my end, if you will.

To put it simply, dear reader, I died. For the morbidly curious person out there, I'll give a general description of what happened.

I had been out biking. Like most people my age, I'd been hoping to get lunch at the commercial mall across the street and meet up with friends, because—to put it simply—there was no way I was eating the cardboard they passed as 'food' from the cafeteria.

So skip to me biking away from the school. With a quick glimpse of the flashing red hand symbol on pedestrian light, I sped on to the crosswalk without a second thought.

As much as I'd like to say I hadn't noticed the dull red SUV ready to turn, I did. At the time, I was sure that if I stopped, I would have come to a less than graceful stop and probably crashed somewhere. To add to that, I had the right of way, so she ought to stop. Alas, I continued speeding across the asphalt, trying to keep my eyes on the curb that was quickly approaching. From the corner of my eye, I saw the car— _surely it wasn't that close to me, right?—_ but with a quiet certainty, I knew I was going to be hit.

At that point in time, I had only two choices. If I tried stopping, I would likely be hit from the front of the bike. If I sped forward, I would be hit from the back. In an attempt of sheer desperation, I piled on speed, straining to be a few feet away—oh, just a few precious feet—but I was hit anyway.

There was no slow motion. There was only gray in my vision. I saw nothing, save for that forsaken dark gray.

My first thought as I felt myself tumble, still blinded by the gray? _My parents are going to kill me if they figure out I was riding without a helmet._

I didn't feel the majority of the fall. It went by in a blur. The first thing I felt was mild burning in my right wrist and my elbow; it reminded me of all the times I skinned my knees. Was that it? Was that all of the injuries I had sustained—

As if to spite me for being so naïve, my leg suddenly felt as though it was being burned from the inside out, with white hot flames licking at the bone. Hot pain flowed through the rest of my body in waves, originating from my thigh.

The gray that had blinded me flicked back to normal, and I could hear shaky, distressed noises. Dimly, I realized that it was _me_ who was making them. I couldn't seem to stop it. It sounded a bit like a distressed goat, if I had to be honest.

Standing a little ahead of me, to my left, was a girl who couldn't have been more than twenty years old, with moderate make up coating her light brown skin, and long black hair. Her mascara-lined eyes were wide, and she was asking me if I was okay. I could barely hear her over my own noises and the ringing in my ears.

I glanced behind me. I was on the concrete island in the middle of the intersection, and my bike was leaning against the traffic light pole. My back was resting on the bike, providing an odd parody of a recliner.

Looking down, I found a jagged structure poking through the fabric of my trousers, with crimson _redredred_ staining the once beige material.

I'm going to go on a limb here and assume that was the source of my pain. I felt a wave of nausea roll over me at the sight. I was _so_ not sitting here in a pool of vomit with a broken bone in the middle of the intersection.

Thank God I had landed on the island. _Maybe I'll actually survive this,_ I thought dimly. After all, my worst injury was a broken thigh bone, right?

Well, the blood was pooling at an alarming rate, but I'd totally be fine, right? A couple of blood infusions here and there, and I could make it to the graduation ceremony inside of a few weeks while wearing a cast. Maybe they'd even let me skip exams! I let a weary grin spread on my face. I'd be fine.

I was going to be fine.

"I'm going to be fine," I murmured again, only now half realizing that I had been speaking out loud this entire time. With grim humor, I recalled all of the times I had joked with my friends when walking, always proclaiming on the streets, " _Hit me! Pay for my tuition!"_ I gave a weak, shaky laugh at the mild irony. Blackness creeped at the edges of my vision, accompanied by a drowsiness and sheer exhaustion I had only known after several all-nighters combined.

"I'm fine," I whispered before I went quiet, and then the blackness rushed in.

* * *

ヾ(o◕ω ◕)ﾉ

* * *

The operation took two hours.

Even then, they never brought me back.

I watched from above. Out of body experiences are fucking weird. You don't feel warmth, or cold, or _anything_. It took a while for me to adjust, but I ended up finding myself in the hospital, hovering above my own form.

God, I even _looked_ dead. I wasn't a pale person to begin with, but something just seemed so _off,_ like there wasn't anything vibrant. My skin was a dull tan that reminded me of all the times I (rather badly) mixed white and brown paint together trying to make a decent flesh color, without adding red or anything. It looked like the same color of the dollar store acrylic paint. Not even the wisps of the blue-dyed hair held any life to it, wilting as if it knew exactly how little life I had left.

Looking at your own corpse is disconcerting, to say the least. I remember reading a study that said that if one were to see themselves as a third person, they wouldn't recognise it. It's true. First you think it's someone else entirely, and then you slowly begin to notice the similar traits you have.

 _Hey, that girl has some wicked blue hair. Looks like mine, actually._

 _Huh, she even has the same zit on her cheek. I know your pain, kid._

 _…_ _Shit, isn't that the same birthmark that I have on_ her _chin._

 _…_ _Fuck, is that me?_

And yet, seeing my own corpse wasn't even the worst part. No, after having been mildly—okay, I admit, _extremely_ —freaked out, I attempted to open the door.

No dice. When I tried turning the steel handle, my hand phased through, as if it was about as substantial as smoke. Experimentally, using every other cheesy ghost movie I'd ever seen, I tried sticking my arm through the door. _And it worked._ Fast forward to me getting over my own reservations of walking _through a fucking door,_ I closed my eyes and advanced.

What I found was a dull gray waiting room that reminded my somewhat of an airport. Seated in the blue and black chairs were a small gathering of family and friends; my mum and dad, the six people who I hung out with _every day._ And they just sat there, whispering among themselves. I joined them, murmuring things I knew they couldn't hear, but said anyway. No, I will not tell you exactly what I said. It's a little bit personal.

The glowing sign that read " _In Operation"_ died down. Like school kids who were waiting for the clock to strike three so they could go home, each person bolted from their seats. The doctor who came out to meet this rush had a grim, but resigned expression, as if he had done this one too many times.

In a quiet voice, he began the process of breaking the news to them. I died.

I sat in a shock like the rest of them, a little bit away. Yes, I had seen my body ( _corpse,_ my mind whispered treacherously), but I had still believed I could have survived…

According to the doctor, I had died of exsanguination. Luckily, I had passed out from losing so much blood at the scene, so I hadn't had to deal with the pain between then and the surgery. However, it seemed I had lost too much blood before I was brought to the operating room. I was essentially gone before they even had the chance to give me the transfusion.

Well, fuck. I know I had wanted to skip exams somehow, but I didn't mean like this…

I glanced at the other occupants in the room.

My mum was not a woman who cried, a trait which regretfully had not passed on to me. She didn't even cry at her father's funeral, nor at her grandmother's. But even now, I could see her burying her face in my father's shoulder, quiet sobs racking her frame. My dad was crying, too. There was something odd about seeing the man whom I'd always seen as invincible and infallible crying. It was _wrong._

My friends, on the other hand—my dear, dear friends whom I'd been intending on meeting earlier for lunch—they made no attempt of hiding it. Anna, the girl who I'd always buy coffee with in unhealthy amounts, she clung to Adam, who always made a habit of staying close to her. I used to always tease him about that. He didn't cry, but he looked close to it.

Bianca, she was sobbing. The girl who more or less adopted me into her family (against my will, mind you), she would have been shocked. Devastated. A year my junior, she had always been on the sensitive side. I'd always had to look out for this oblivious idiot… I really hoped she'd be able to find someone else to watch over her, and didn't get herself in the future.

Then there was Alejandra, Juan, and Kim. Alejandra and Juan were siblings, with Juan being the only one who was a year older. I would walk with them to school in the mornings, and we'd rave about anime plots, and make really bad puns and meme references. Juan, who had never been as close to me as Alejandra, but a good friend anyway, was quietly trying to console his sister and Kim.

Ah, Kim… this girl had been my best friend for six years at this point. A quirky idiot who would always be willing to put up with my bullshit despite not holding the same eccentric interests Alejandra and I had, she was always just _there._ I couldn't imagine being without her.

Bitterly, I smiled, wondering how Mackenzie, my dear frenemy (friend/enemy, for those of you who are fortunate enough to not have to deal with these dumbasses), in a whole other country would get news of my death. The stupid idiot who'd always insist on killing me with her assassins or by her own hands, she was probably going to be pissed when she found out I went ahead and died without some grandiose shounen-style adventure story to go with it.

I was almost glad no one else had been there. I don't think I could have withstood any more scenes of people crying. I futilely tried consoling them; my parents, Anna, Adam, Bianca, Alejandra, Juan, Kim… but none of them, of course, could hear me.

I closed my eyes, praying that this was all just a dream, because this was just bullshit. I wasn't supposed to die. I wasn't even eighteen yet… I was supposed to have all the time in the world to procrastinate. I blinked back tears, wishing this all away…..

* * *

ヾ(o◕ω ◕)ﾉ

* * *

 _Around me was nothing more than emptiness, more black that stretched on for God knows how far. I could feel a certain pull upwards. I was drifting away from everything, despite my best efforts to stay put. And yet, like a leaf in a current, I found myself being pulled upwards, where there was a pinprick of light. A voice called to me._

 _Most people would say that a voice calling to them in the dark was really fucking creepy, but this sounded like an old crone, singing a soft song to a child. It was soothing. I was getting closer and closer to the light. There was, oddly enough, a wind that came, my only indication otherwise that I was moving_ fast _to the light. I stopped fighting, I stopped the struggle that humans are tasked with since birth, and at that moment, felt overcome with a glorious sensation of peace and stillness. The light grew brighter and brighter…_

And suddenly, I was in a well-lit library. I blinked. It was like one of those really bad video game respawns where you get put into the most questionable location on the map.

Poised on the blue antique-looking sofa sat an elderly woman. She looked barely familiar, as if I had seen her in a history book once. Her smile was warm and wistful, as if she was looking at her own grand-daughter. She wore traditional robes, a rich red color, but embroidered with rich black designs of dragons and phoenixes, the Asian motif I had seen all the time.

She moved to caress the side of my face, the way a mother would when her child had woken from a frightful nightmare.

"You poor, poor child," she said softly, her eyes dark and sad. "You died before you were ready to stay here."

I blinked again. "Er, what?" was my ever-intelligent response.

"Tell me, my dear girl, what is your name?"

"I-it's Maya. Maya Zhang."

The woman's eyes twinkled, and she gave me a small smile. "You can't stay here yet. You need to go back."

At her cryptic words, I perked up. "So I can live? _Hell yeah—_ er, I mean, uh, heaven yes…? I'm not going to send myself to the abyss by cursing, right? I just wanna go back and hug my people." Her smile became slightly more amused.

"No, you won't be sent to hell for such a trifling thing. However—"

"Look, I'm sorry for saying _hell,_ but—"

"It's not about that," she reassured. "I did not get to tell you that you'll not be returning to live in your old world." At this, I deflated.

"I'm not?" I was so disappointed I didn't even register the 'old world' bit of her sentence.

"I'm sorry, dear Maya. You'll be sent to somewhere else to start new. Because of your unfortunate death, you will have a bit of an advantage in this new world. With this, you likely won't die so early, and you'll have a chance at being properly judged. Don't fret, I have confidence that you'll be fine." She dropped an eye in a wink, seeming somewhat mischievous.

My brow furrowed. "What advantage? And did you say _new world?_ What exactly does that entail?"

"Oh, don't worry. You'll find out about that when you get there. You'll know it when you see it." Her smile dimmed, and it became solemn again. "You don't have long here, my child. Before you leave, I want to say that no matter what happens, no matter what you do, I will be proud of you."

Those words… they sounded like what a family member would say. The familiarity prickled, but I couldn't place it. Hesitantly, feeling bad that I had no idea who she was, I asked her. She gave a hearty laugh.

"Why, I'm your mama's grandmother! I held you when you were no more than a baby. I passed away a little after you were born. I was judged, and made it here. I'm simply waiting for the rest of my family, you see."

Oh. _Oh._ That's why she seemed familiar. My mum had shown me a few pictures over the years, and we would visit her grave once every year. This was the woman my mother spoke of with reverence, the woman she referred to as _taī-poh._

Not knowing what to say, I leaned over and gave her a tight hug. "I'll be back soon. Wait for me, _taī-poh_." Her smile widened, and it was the last thing I saw before the annoying blackness took me again.

* * *

ヾ(o◕ω ◕)ﾉ

* * *

Regaining motor skills is the biggest bitch of a task ever. I highly advise against it.

Seriously. I spent _months,_ if not _years_ (though I highly doubted it, and it probably just _felt_ like years) at getting back the skills of properly walking and speaking. I'll spare you the gory details. Luckily, I didn't gain much consciousness within the first few months, so at least I didn't have to deal with that. Those few months merely felt like a restless sleep, perforated with only a few bouts of consciousness.

Well, it didn't help at all that my body required like, sixteen hours of sleep per day. Whatever, at least it lessened the vast amounts of time where there was nothing more than sheer _boredom._

At least the excess time allowed me to learn the language here. Japanese, it seemed. Was I born into Japan? Maybe I was in the same world… and could somehow acquire plane tickets to see my mum and dad again…

I pushed the thought away. It was too soon to start plotting stuff like that…. Not _yet._

This new world _taī-poh_ had mentioned smelled weird. Like herbal, but dry. It _sounds_ nice, sure, but dear _God,_ they smelled awful when they were brewed. It reminded me of scents in my old life, but I couldn't quite place it.

Damn you, rubbish baby memory.

Another crap thing? When I first saw the people here, I admit I wasn't quite aware of my, ah, _condition._ So naturally, when I saw giant-ass smiling people towering above me, I started screaming and crying.

I wasn't in fucking _Attack on Titan,_ right? _Right?_

If that was the case, I was so fucking dead. Done. I couldn't even survive a car hitting me. How the shit was I supposed to survive this bullshit?

It took me a while to realise that there people were, in fact, my parents in this world, and more importantly, had no intention of devouring me alive. Or dead, for that matter.

The woman—my mother, I corrected myself—had waves of light brown hair trailing down to her mid back that caught the light whenever she moved. She had brown eyes, a pointed chin and generally soft features. Her most noticeable feature, however, were the purple markings at her cheeks. At first I had thought they were really vibrant bandages or tattoos, but turns out they were birth marks. It was a hereditary thing, if I wasn't mistaken. She was sometimes at home, sometimes at work for days at a time and came back filthy and bore the occasional bloodstain. She was often reserved, but not when it came to family.

Her name was Moriko.

And the man—my father—was plain as well, with dark brown, almost black hair kept in a short ponytail. Like, founding father style. Like, Hohenheim Elric style. Unlike my mother, he had bright gray eyes, and sharp features—a blunt chin, a crooked nose. I often saw him at the front of the house, in the business bit of the house. He was constantly fiddling with the herbs, weighing them out for clients on an odd balance scale. He was also always speaking to his most frequent client, a young blonde woman in a green _haori_ who seemed to come in almost every day for herbs.

His name was Hiro.

And then there was me. Tiny little me, who only figured out why my name was familiar when I saw my chubby form in front of a long mirror in the parlor, when father and the blonde lady were chatting.

Emblazoned on my cheeks, impossible to miss, were purple markings identical to my mother's own birth marks. My eyes, when I stared at them for long enough, were a strange brown-gray, a mix of my mother and father's eyes. My hair had grown since the day I was born (I was a bald baby), and it was a light brown that barely managed to reach my jawline—er, what I presumed to be my jawline. All this baby fat was in the way.

I wasn't that remarkable in appearance. Everything except for the birth marks, I would have brushed off as completely and utterly average. I had no weird hair or eye colors (much to my disappointment), so I didn't think anything of it.

But yet, with so much free time to think, I would wonder why mother was always out, and always returned exhausted and covered in blood, hands shaking. Like, my first mum had an office job, and _she_ never came home covered in blood.

But _taī-poh_ _had_ said that I would have some advantage of this world, some knowledge. So I thought.

And not long after, it became excruciatingly clear.

Because the woman who was in the very same room as me was none other than Tsunade Senju.

And my name, dear reader, was Rin Nohara.

And I was fated to die.

* * *

 **Dear God, I'm so cheesy.**

 **The reason for the name _Out Cold_ was just this thing I wanted to do, since _Rin_ means cold, apparently.**

 **The thing with** **_taī-poh_ _(_** **太婆)** **is Cantonese for great grandmother.**

 **As for how she died... yeah, long story short, I got hit by a car recently. It more or less happened the same way, but minus the broken femur and the bleeding to death. In reality I just got a wicked abrasion on the left side of my face, and this huge bruise on my leg.**

 **Question for you guys, have you gotten a scar or a really bad injury?**

 **_Reviews are love, reviews are life._**


	2. In Which Swearing is Key

**Title: Out Cold**

 **Date: 9/9/2015**

 **Rating: T**

 **Disclaimer: Nah, I don't own Naruto. If I did, there would be a shitload less of dead people.**

* * *

 _ **LAST TIME**_

 _I wasn't that remarkable in appearance. Everything except for the birth marks, I would have brushed off as completely and utterly average. I had no weird hair or eye colors (much to my disappointment), so I didn't think anything of it._

 _But yet, with so much free time to think, I would wonder why mother was always out, and always returned exhausted and covered in blood, hands shaking. Like, my first mum had an office job, and she never came home covered in blood._

 _But taī-poh had said that I would have some advantage of this world, some knowledge. So I thought._

 _And not long after, it became excruciatingly clear._

 _Because the woman who was in the very same room as me was none other than Tsunade Senju._

 _And my name, dear reader, was Rin Nohara._

 _And I was fated to die._

* * *

 **Chapter 2: In Which Swearing is Key**

After that particular earth-shattering revelation, I felt fucking cheated.

Like really, I get a new life, but then I have to turn back in after thirteen? Complete and utter bullshit, if you asked me.

I wasn't quite sure what qualified for 'living long enough to be judged'. Was it my total accumulated years? Was it the amount of time I lived in a specific world? I wasn't going to wait thirteen years just to find out what their definition of 'acceptably dead' was. I really wasn't quite clear on how this death business worked.

There were a few factors that encouraged my desperation of staying alive; I had actually grown _attached_ to my new mother and father dearest. I adored them, though admittedly I found myself relieved that ' _okaa-san'_ and ' _otou-san'_ sounded nothing like ' _mum'_ and ' _dad',_ so I didn't feel as if I was replacing my original parents. Even so, I adored them. Moriko Nohara and Hiro Tamaka were fabulous people by any standards.

My other reason for not wanting to die was mainly the 'growing up' years, that lovely and awkward transition between infancy and being a somewhat coherent child.

I hated those years. People say puberty were the worst years of their life? Please, at least they had no recollection of having basically no motor skills. I didn't even care for speaking the new language—which surprisingly enough, wasn't even that difficult—I was just doggedly working at regaining control. Fingers came first, starting with making grabby motions. Then came the individual finger manipulation.

Walking came closely after that, but was almost as difficult a feat as the working of fingers. My muscles simply were not developed enough to hold me up. As such, I was degraded to crawling.

It had been a difficult year.

At the very least, those long months gave me a long time to plot. And by plot, I meant two things. The first thing being _'engrave the storyline and backstory of Naruto into my brain so I don't forget the details'_. It was crazy. I was _dreaming_ about reruns of the storyline, just from how often I would think about it. Have I ever mentioned how surreal it was to try envisioning a plot, then expecting—no, _knowing_ that it was doomed to happen in the span twenty years? It was unnerving. It was a feeling I, along with most other people, had never dealt with the displeasure of experiencing.

My second definition of plotting entailed ' _plan to mess some shit up so I don't actually die at thirteen.'_

I could just _not_ become a shinobi…

 _Yes, but it would be a shame for you to waste your second life, wouldn't it? Staying here and remaining as cannon fodder, just as you were in your first. Unremarkable in the slightest, just like all the billions of other people in that world._

I blinked. Was I really that self-centered?

Yes, I had narcissist issues about my life. Serious issues. But I couldn't bring myself to just idly stay home, _knowing_ what bullshit would befall this lovely land and _not_ doing anything.

Besides, I didn't trust some other girl to go ahead with Team Minato, completely unaware and get killed, then possibly send one Obito Uchiha into a huge fucking frenzy where he tries destroying the world as we know it.

Even if I didn't become a shinobi and survive as a nameless face, I felt that it would be difficult to make my life _worth_ living. Maybe it would even fall under the judgement's expectation. Would I be sent to some Hell of sorts after that…?

I shook my head. My existential crisis was _not_ a fun time. Nor was it necessary.

It was after the hours of pondering, just shy of age one and a half, did I announce to my parents my decision.

"I want to go to the Academy."

* * *

(◕‿◕✿）

* * *

As a rule of thumb, I generally try to expect the worst.

Like, I'm pretty sure if I had a darling child who walked up to me, and proceeded to say they wanted to become nothing short of a child soldier, I'd probably either break down crying, or would do my best to dissuade them.

My parents exhibited no such reaction.

Instead, Hiro had actually _picked me up_ , and swung me around. He didn't even say anything along the lines of how I was going to be just like 'okaa-san'. Instead, he was cheering, "Moriko! I won the bet~!"

I think my jaw dropped.

I wasn't sure.

I was too flabbergasted to recall if it did.

Moriko had an amused glint in her eye, and something akin to pride.

I was shocked, to say the least. But I guess in a military dominated land, there was a shit load of propaganda flying around. And it was probably hella effective, too. Even so, I was still surprised that they had managed to get parents to be _okay_ with kids practically throwing away their lives.

The very next day, Moriko had deigned to purchase an edition of the _Beginner's Chakra Control Exercises: Child Edition._ It was ridden with cutesy styled chibi characters showing off how to do the exercise, enlarged text, and oddly… had a candy sort of fragrance?

Best of all, it actually did a decent job of teaching.

 _Chakra,_ read the intro page, _refers to both the flowing of chakra through an object as well as any technique that increases the potency of a weapon by flowing chakra through it. Usually, elemental chakra is used to flow through bladed weapons in order to either dramatically increase their various pre-existing properties or to gain additional advantageous effects. It is a mix of the two energies: physical (yang) and spiritual (yin). Physical energy is collected from each and every one of the body's cells and can be increased through training, stimulants, and exercise. Spiritual energy is derived from the mind's consciousness and can be increased through studying, meditation, and experience. These two energies becoming more powerful will in turn make the created chakra more powerful._

The next page entailed all of the requirements and goals for the leaf exercise. A small figure with a shock of blue hair below the block of text demonstrated the motions to go through. It seemed every page had the same blue-haired chibi (who was called Akane) displaying the practical movements for all twenty-seven exercises.

If I didn't understand a thing, I generally went over to Moriko for help, assuming she wasn't out on a mission. If I found a word which was not quite yet part of my small vocabulary (which happened quite often), I would ask Hiro, who was only unavailable when he had clients to work on.

As a result of Moriko not always being able to help me with chakra control, Hiro would teach me in the ways of herbalism and acupuncture when he had free time. Despite his being a civilian, he knew of acupuncture points that would encourage chakra flow through the body, allowing a shinobi to recover from chakra exhaustion much faster.

Hiro began with teaching me the basics of herbalism, often drilling me in what herb promoted healing for whatever ailment he could think of; from plants that encouraged drowsiness (sage, valerian, chamomile), to treatments for a diseased heart (foxglove, ginger, arjuna, hawthorn), to digestive tonics (thistle, rosehips, chlorella). Then came the poisons, which much to his dismay, I showed a high interest and proficiency for—aconite, white snakeroot (this one I found highly amusing, in reference to Orochimaru), nightshade, hyacinths.

If I gave the wrong answer, Hiro would proceed to dunk a shit-load of ice water on my head, leaving me shivering. My response, of course, would be to chase him with the insistence of giving him a hug with my thoroughly soaked and freezing body, leaving wet footprints and maniacal laughter in my wake. I would also find myself swearing in English since, hey, I wouldn't get in trouble for swearing in a language that didn't exist here, and my parents would think said language was some childish gibberish.

At this age, I wasn't quite trusted with the acupuncture needles yet, given my still shaky and chubby toddler fingers. To be honest, I didn't quite trust myself either. The prospect of me stabbing needles into someone's flesh like a pincushion unnerved me. Hiro still gave me the acupuncture chart to study from, but without a proper explanation all I saw were complicated arrays of dots spanning a human figure.

Moriko, as I mentioned earlier, would often assist me with chakra control, but she generally liked letting me figure things out for myself, only giving hints instead of a straight answer. While it was infuriating, the sense of accomplishment upon completing a task was all the better. In tandem with Hiro's lessons, she would teach me in the basics of anatomy.

As it turns out, the Nohara clan was generally specialized in iryo-jutsu. While the clan wasn't at all big and important like the Hyuugas or the Uchihas, it was scattered throughout the Fire Country and helped with the medic facilities, either in practice or in research.

The latter was how Moriko and Hiro met, apparently. They were both researchers in the same field—chakra passages. And so, as the story goes, they went from loathing, to rivalry, and at last, to reluctantly admitting their true love for the other. It was Hiro who told me how they met, with Moriko throwing in light hearted jabs about how much of a geek he had been back then, a statement to which Hiro gasped dramatically and clutched his heart in mock shock. He then proceeded to challenge her in a true test of courage and wills; a tickle fight.

Ah, yes, my first OTP in this world, and it was my parents.

I shipped it.

That was the routine I had for the months afterwards. At the proud age of three and a half, I was dancing between herbalism, acupuncture theory, chakra control and the beginnings of the Mystical Palm Jutsu (but only in theory). I found little time to go and acquaint myself with other children at the park, and to be honest, I wasn't mentally prepared to even try acting as energetic as the others in my age group. I was perfectly content as it was.

So of course, when I fell asleep and felt my consciousness being dragged upwards, I panicked.

* * *

(◕‿◕✿）

* * *

I blinked at the familiar scenery.

I was standing on the bank of a river which cut through the woods. I stood in the centre of what seemed to be half of a stone building, which couldn't have been much larger than a small apartment. The walls had been long burned down, and I could see how the bricks had been weathered away. So much of it had been destroyed that one could walk through them and not even realize that a house had once stood here. It appeared that nature was slowly engulfing what was left of the old establishment. Spider webs clung to the deep cavities in the individual bricks, and large white-beige rocks piled up against the side of one of the walls, almost like stairs. The other wall stood on the base of a hill to my right, elevating it slightly above the other. It seemed as though there had once been two levels to the house, but it must have been destroyed at least a century and a half ago, judging from the ruins. Further up the hill was obscured by the trees, but I knew a few steps away there was a small path that was most likely overgrown by scraggly plants.

I knew this place; while there were no signs of any human life here asides from the paths and the decimated stone walls, I was sure there was a highway half of a kilometer up the path. This forest had been an old haunt of mine in the first life. While it was lovely and sentimental, it only raised the question; why the fuck was I here?

"Aw, crap," I said out loud. My own voice sounded strange here, so alone in the vast forest. "I swear to God, did I somehow die in my sleep? This is bullshit. I demand to see Jesus."

"Unfortunately, child, he's out for the moment." I jumped at the sudden voice, barely suppressing a surprised and undignified squeak. Whirling to find the source, my eyes scanned the area before I looked up towards the bit of wall on the hill. _Taī-poh_ stood there, looking every bit like a withered nature spirit, if not for the bold blue embroidered robe she wore.

Unable to think of a smart thing to say, my mouth flapped open and closed for a few moments before I said dumbly, "You're not Jesus."

The old woman threw back her head and laughed. "Yes, you're quite right. But I've been told I bear a great resemblance to him, dear."

I stared. Did my great-grandmother just make a Jesus joke with me?

Doing my best to not look like I was completely flabbergasted, I made my way up the hill and leaped up and sat on the edge of the wall so that my legs dangled. I was sitting by her feet, and had to shield my eyes from the sun in order to look up at her.

"… So I'm not dead, right?"

"People can usually reach their mindscape through meditation, or if they come close to dying. Fortunately, you're nowhere close to dying. That would be a pity, don't you think?" Her eyes twinkled, and for a second, the sunlight cast on her face made her look almost… scheming. For a second, I was taken aback, but then inwardly grinned. So the epic evil scheming had been passed down the family, from her to mum to me. "No, I've summoned you here. Currently, we're in your mindscape." I blinked.

"Wait, then what the hell were we in before?" I asked.

"You could say that we were, ah, between the two worlds. Heaven. Your old world. The dimension you now inhabit. There are many dimensions, but they all have a common point which they meet. In fact, that point is just down that path." She pointed at the trail on the hill that was overwhelmed in greenery. "Should you ever need me, simply go on the path, and I will see you."

Well, that was good to know. There were plenty of other dimensions I could have been spat into, but no, I had to go ahead and get sent to the one with child soldiers and constant war. Why, oh why couldn't I have been sent to some stupid shoujo manga, oh cruel fates?

… Actually, I take that back. As it is now, I'd prefer battling an OP (over-powered, for those of you who don't know the lingo) as hell character as opposed to some bullshit romance saga.

Mentally, I shuddered. Dear God, what would have happened if I had been sent to _Twilight?_

"As for why I brought you here," _taī-poh_ said, her voice cutting through my reverie, "It's nothing really. I just wanted to inform you of a couple things that I forgot to mention last time."

I tilted my head. "Couldn't you have just told me like, right away? Pulled me back up to that place? Like, it's been almost four years. Waiting that long couldn't have been necessary. You were probably bored."

"Ah, on the contrary, I _have_ been keeping busy, but it's of no concern. And as for why I didn't call you here immediately... To be blunt, you needed time to adapt to this new world, this new form. Your soul was foreign to the body that you were born with here. It takes _time_ for the two to properly bond. Had I pulled you out sooner, your body may have rejected you upon your return, like a virus."

"Oh," I said meekly.

"Yes, it's rather bothersome." The elderly woman looked away, towards the slow-moving river. "You don't absolutely need to know this, but it couldn't hurt…" she glanced back. "Your soul, still recalls memories from your past life. It does not alter like the brain does. Your recollection of things from then may fade, of course, but at a much slower pace than they would normally. Your memories up until you died are preserved, in a sense—much like the things in those video games you used to play so often. What was it called? A _save file?"_ That's why this," she made a vague gesture to the woods around us, "is your mindscape. You find more comfort in memories of your old life than you do from this world.

Breathing deeply, I paused to take this all in. It was convenient… I wondered if it would still do this 'save file' thing now.

When I voiced my question, she looked just about ready to thwack me on the head. Instead, she sat down on the ridge next to me. Her stare bored into my eyes. "Don't be dense. Were you not listening earlier? _Only_ things from your past life are saved, and they're not even completely permanent. If you allow it, they _will_ fade eventually. So no, your soul is not an all-powerful cheat tool for you to memorize your medical studies or whatever other trivial things you come up with. _Think._ If it could, _anyone_ with a soul would have next to a perfect memory."

I let out a sigh of despair. "Well, crap. There goes my hopes and dreams of taking over the world with superior memory powers."

 _Taī-poh_ raised a delicate eyebrow at me. "I'm sure you ought to have some other means of world conquest. You're in the world where people can and would breathe fire at the drop of a hat. However, as much as I would like to encourage you to follow your dreams and ambitions, you really _should_ follow what you know of the plot. I worked hard to put you in a world which you would actually have a slight advantage of."

I gave her a lopsided grin. "I suppose then, that world domination is out of the question, then."

She returned the smile with a mischievous wink. "Don't give up quite yet. You can let it be your side quest, Maya. Actually, what would I call you now, child of two names? Maya, the name you were given in your first life, or Rin, your current name? Perhaps I could call you a mix of of the two names. Min? Raya?" I made a face. Dear God, it sounded like she was trying to come up with a ship name. What if she wrote a bad fanfic about me with that name?

I found myself daydreaming, and forced my brain to tune in. "...have limited time here. I will tell you one last thing before I leave." Her eyes became solemn, her voice urgent. "Up until now, you've been the sole consciousness controlling the body you were given in this new world. Up until now, you were safe."

I could feel my eyebrows furrowing together. "Up until now? As in, like, not anymore?"

"Precisely. You will begin to feel its effects soon enough, a spirit whom is beginning to awaken, and may attempt to take control." She gazed at me sympathetically, as if she had just diagnosed me with an incurable disease, but also to gauge my reaction. I took this in with as blank of a face as possible, but I was still pretty sure she knew how stunned I was. Call it intuition, or magic grandma powers. I tried going for a sarcastic tone, but it came out as a shaky whisper.

"You mean to say I'm possessed?"

She smiled ruefully, like that was a slightly better alternative than what she was about to say. "No, Maya. This spirit has been here the entire time, and she hasn't taken control yet. I don't think it would quite qualify as possession."

I could feel my brow furrowing. " _She?_ You know who the spirit is?"

Her tone was grave, as if she was speaking at my funeral. "You may know her. Her name is Rin Nohara."

* * *

(◕‿◕✿）

* * *

Watery streaks of daylight filtered into my room, indicating it was morning. I lay on my futon, not quite crying, but contemplating.

 _At least crying would distract me a little bit._

Almost immediately, I felt the urge to slap myself. Ugh, I would _not_ go through an emo phase. I almost wanted the other soul to hit me.

 _Which brings me back to the point that..._

I had an extra soul. _I was living with the soul of a character who isn't supposed to actually exist._ Sure, there had been evidence of not being in my old world anymore—chakra, for one thing, was definitely a thing that denoted the grand difference in between my two lives. Then there was the lifestyle, the foods and new parents and just _how things worked_. They weren't the same anymore, no matter how hard I tried to make it seem like it was all a bothersome dream.

But now, there was something—no, _someone_ else who could take over at any time. And to top it off, I couldn't even be mad if she suddenly asked for her body back; it was hers to begin with. I was a thief, simple as that. I sincerely hoped that she wouldn't gain consciousness for a long time, so I wouldn't have to deal with the guilt, so I wouldn't have to tell her that I had no plans of giving her back the body.

I was a coward.

A knock on the door startled me out of my reverie. Moriko padded into the room, her footfall as silent and graceful as a cat's.

"I'm surprised you're awake. You usually sleep in until noon," she said softly. I blinked at her. Even in the weak morning sun, her bound auburn hair caught the light, turning brown strands red-gold, like a hearth. Her pale, fine-boned face was awash with the healthy glow that I usually associated with ninjas. Even the purple markings, unlike my own faint ones, stood out proudly on her own cheeks (well, that one was fair. All of the Nohara clan members were originally born with watered-down birthmarks, only a few shades more vibrant than a purple bruise. They were generally tattooed on after initiation to being a medic and/or shinobi). Even so, she was annoyingly elegant even in her pajamas.

I shook my head, mentally chiding myself for spacing out. What was the question again? Why was I up so early...? Oh, right. I waved a dismissive hand. "I had a nightmare."

She raised a delicate eyebrow and stepped further into the room. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Now, here was the thing. Did I want to tell her about the soul thing? It was stupid, but she was one of the two people who I had grown close to in this world. But then again, did I really _want_ to tell her I was a changeling? Have another person consider me a thief?

In the end, I settled for a half truth.

"I had a dream that I wasn't really your daughter, and I was possessed by a girl who was your real daughter. We were fighting for control of the body. I wasn't sure if I was the ghost, or if she was." _And even though she was the real daughter, and I fought for control anyway,_ went unsaid.

Moriko stared at me for a long time. I almost began to wonder if she would start calling me a fake, and banish me from the house or simply just end my life for taking away her original daughter.

Instead, she pulled me into a tight hug.

"You'll always be my daughter," she whispered fiercely. "Your father and I love you, no matter what. Remember that."

A little bit later, after she pulled away from the embrace, she told me that Hiro was making an attempt of having me be a bit more sociable, and he wanted to meet up with an old companion. He and Moriko were friends with the owner of the small orphanage in the area.

Her name was Natsu-something or other. Apparently, she had an orphan girl around my age. I think it began with a Yu-.

As you could see, my ability for remembering names was astonishing. It seems that did not change from my old life, not even in the slightest.

I dragged myself around, still groggy from lack of sleep. We were supposed to meet at noon for a playdate, and it was still a couple hours before I had to ask like a decent human being.

I didn't feel up to chakra training, and there wasn't enough time (or mental coherence, for that matter), to study up on herbs and poisons. As such, there was only one thing to do from here.

I took a nap.

It was Hiro who woke me up this time from a blissfully dreamless sleep. It all would have been fine, except for the fact that he woke me up precisely _at noon,_ so there was no time for me to attempt to coax my hair into anything that didn't resemble a bird nest. Ugh, it was literally only screwed up on one side. The side that I hadn't slept on, the left side, was perfectly smooth and curved inward, falling just past my shoulders.

And then there was the piece of shit that refused to go back to normal, no matter how many times I tried running my fingers through the tangle.

Hiro didn't help in the slightest. In fact, as we walked to the living room, he openly laughed and said it would make a good fashion statement and a lasting first impression.

I was _so_ joining the prank war against him. Moriko would totally appreciate the help.

Moriko took one look at my complimentary bird nest, and then gave Hiro the look that said, ' _this disaster is totally your fault'._

Seated on the couch adjacent to her were two people, a woman in her late thirties with dirty blonde hair, and a girl my age, with purple hair flowing down her back and impassive brown eyes. She sat very close to the woman, as if she was uncomfortable in this new environment and having only one source of familiarity. Her gaze roved over me, and for a second her eyes widened, shocked, as if I were a denizen of hell that had crawled out from her nightmares, but she recovered in a split second. If I hadn't been staring at her, I would have missed the entire thing.

"Rin-chan, this is Natsumi Uzuki," Hiro said, gesturing at the blonde lady.

She graced me with a wide grin. "Nice to meet you, Rin-chan. Your dad never shuts up about you."

Hiro feigned shock and proceeded to collapse on the floor, groaning on about how his closest friends and even his dearest wife betrayed him. I glanced at him for a moment—his dramatic episodes were pretty common—shrugged, and proceeded to sit on his back. Meh. I was three and a half. I was pretty sure it wouldn't hurt.

Natsumi continued the introductions, since Hiro was having a dramatic fit on the floor. She patted the head of the purple-haired girl. "Rin-chan, this here is Yugao Uzuki. Yu-chan, this is Rin Nohara-chan."

Yugao Uzuki... Her name rang a bell. Dimly, all I remembered was a grown woman in Anbu, with violet locks crying over a dead boyfriend. I didn't remember her as a key player.

Okay, so I could talk to her without completely screwing plot things up.

Or so I thought.

The adults left us two to our own devices, with encouragements of "You can go to the park if you want!" while they stayed stayed behind and caught up with each other.

Ah, Konoha, where parents can have the reassurance that something _probably_ wouldn't happen to their roaming three year olds.

So now we were outside, with the sun beating down on us and the humid air pressing against our skin as we walked to the park. I tried initiating idle conversation about how goddamned hot it was, and while she would respond, there was something about her that seemed nervous, as if I was a ticking time bomb.

I inwardly frowned. My temper wasn't famed to be _that_ bad, was it?

The awkwardness hung between us like an iron wall. It stayed like that for a while, until I, with my natural inclination to being a klutz and having not gone outside in a while, tripped over a tree root and swore in English, so not to completely corrupt the mind of the innocent girl next to me, no matter how quiet and judge-y she was.

" _Fuck,"_ I hissed in my native tongue as I examined my scrapes from the ground. As I rose back up to my feet, I expected the girl to be as impassive as usual, if not slightly concerned.

No, when I looked at her, she looked as if I had begun chanting in a demon language and summoned up her dead family members. Wide-eyed, she examined me like I was a specimen that had yielded impossible results.

" _What the hell did you say?"_ she demanded, though it sounded odd. It took me a second, it really did. And then I realized she had spoken in the same language as I had; English.

I stared at her the same way she had stared at me, with fascination and a touch of hope. How the fuck would someone here know _English,_ of all things? Maybe she was from an undiscovered western nation from overseas? There was only one way to tell.

"What would you say," I drawled, continuing on in English, which sounded foreign after all of these years of Japanese, "if I mentioned the name _Darth Vader?"_

Her eyes met mine. "I would say _Luke Skywalker."_

"And if I said _Canada?"_

" _Maple syrup."_

And we continued that game for a little longer, making references that no one here could even know if they hadn't lived in my old world.

We started growing acquainted then, only whispers shared between us in fear someone would overhear and ask what we were speaking. Her demeanor changed the longer we spoke together; she became more sarcastic, snorting at some references and little verbal jabs when I, too, became sarcastic.

I didn't tell her about the reincarnation thing outright. Like, references of the old world was enough, but mentions of my experiences might have chased her away... As likely as it was that she came here because she, too, had died, I wasn't prepared to take that risk. I couldn't afford that yet.

I think I would have eventually told her about my reincarnation and my old name, if not for our parents showing up and finally calling for us to go home.

With knowing smiles to each other, our parents/guardians guided us home, with promises to see each other soon.

And the entire way back, I grinned like a maniac.

Maybe, just maybe, I had found someone who was like me.

* * *

 **I swear to God, this chapter was like pulling teeth.**

 **I'm sorry this chapter took so long, I had to rewrite some of these scenes more than twice so they didn't piss me off as bad, but even then I'm kind of hating on this chapter. I'll probably start actual plot-shit in the next chapter, what with the Academy and the like.**

 **As for Rin not actually getting down to business when talking to Yugao... while a lot of people would just say to get on with it, I feel like after four years of having to keep who you really are a secret, to have literally no one to confide in, you would just kind of hardwire yourself not to outright say something as sensitive as** _ **dying,**_ **and then being reincarnated. It's too big of a secret to tell after only a couple of hours, even if the other person is giving indications that they might have gone through something similar. We'll see more of this in the next chapter, don't worry. I have shit tons of things planned for this little exchange and all of the reasons.**

 **Anywho, I just drew the cover photo for Adult! Rin since she's easier to draw. You can find it here: .com**

 **Yeah, you guys probably hate me after not updating for a month and a half... but I'll try update sooner if I can. School just started again. [Insert tired sigh here]**

 **Question! Do any of you get writing anxiety as well, like half way through a story you just regret everything you've ever written for it since you think it's all rubbish?**

 _ **Reviews are love, reviews are life.**_


	3. In Which Fate Really IS Cliche

**Title: Out Cold**

 **Date: March 5, 2016**

 **Rating: T**

 **Disclaimer: Nah, I don't own Naruto. If I did, there would be a shitload less of dead people.**

* * *

 _I think I would have eventually told her about my reincarnation and my old name, if not for our parents showing up and finally calling for us to go home._

 _With knowing smiles to each other, our parents/guardians guided us home, with promises to see each other soon._

 _And the entire way back, I grinned like a maniac._

 _Maybe, just maybe, I had found someone who was like me._

* * *

Long story short: I didn't see Yugao for a long time after that first encounter.

I had been kept back by my own herbalism and chakra training, and whenever I would actually summon the will to haul my lazy arse out of the house to visit the orphanage, Yugao seemed to be out as well. I gave up after my third try. Chances are, I would probably see her again in the future, assuming neither of us died.

As it was now, I was simply gathering herbs from the woods for Hiro, since he was a cheapskate and didn't feel like paying to import plants that were "practically from our backyard", as he put it.

Consequently, Hiro had seen fit to put little ol' me to work since I lazed around the house when I wasn't studying. He'd absentmindedly handed me a blow dart with a couple of tranquilizers loaded. Upon my asking, he'd muttered something about a childhood prank war as he balanced what looked to be a dried seahorse. Since it was clear that he wasn't going to be talking coherently to me any time soon, I grabbed Hiro's small wicker basket and the little grocery list for herbs and started off towards the woods.

So here I was.

The apothecary was close to the outskirts of Konoha, so getting to the forest was pretty easy. It takes about fifteen minutes to walk there, and another ten to get to the impromptu garden Moriko had found on her way back from a mission. It wasn't really a garden, per se, but the plants in that general area were essentially the main ingredients Hiro needed. If I wanted _cerbera_ kernels, though, I would have to go to the forest three districts over, which was a bitch to walk.

Incidentally, _cerbera_ kernels was on the grocery list.

Swearing under my breath in dread of the long walk to come, I slipped into the woods. I like to think I was relatively silent by my standards, but to a shinobi, probably about as stealthy as a water buffalo. My feet gave the barest crunch against the crisp fallen leaves with each step.

Golden sunlight streamed through the canopy, which was far, far above me. It might have been at least a kilometer high. The smallest trees here would certainly be considered enormous back home.

It was calming; the quiet stillness of the air, undisturbed by the roars of cars and the screams of klaxons and the wailing of police sirens that I had grown so accustomed to before I died. Even the golden specks of pollen seemed to be suspended in the warm streams of sunlight, as if the serenity of the forest had trapped them in time.

I almost missed the landmarks, lost in my nostalgia: the rotted tree, the hollow trunk, the bubbling river and the clearing right next to it. I eyed the clump of lush lavender at the base of a tree, with an array of other plants around it. I knelt down and gingerly plucked at various leaves and roots.

I highly don't recommend doing this yourself. Recognizing plants generally took a keen eye and lots of studies. An extra point on a leaf could mean a totally different organism that could contain trace amounts of cyanide, which most likely wasn't what the doctor ordered (well, unless we were dealing poisons training, or when the aforementioned doctor was supplying Moriko with various darts and knives dipped in exquisite toxins). Quickly, I picked a handful of herbs from around the meadow: _Hypericum,_ yarrow, and some Valerian root, to name a few.

I started making my way out of the area, and looked over my shoulder just for one last view. The flow of the river and the hill to the north reminded me of my mindscape. It made me feel safe—protected, somehow, the same way that a part of your hometown could feel as familiar as your own bed room.

To put it simply, the walk to the other forest was really freaking boring. I took the scenic route by using forest pathways instead of cutting through town, just to make it seem interesting, but even the dimming sunlight was losing its effects on me. I'll spare you details of the bland adventure. I hastily smoothed a sheet of parchment over the medicinal herbs in the basket, slapped on some gloves, and began piling on the poisonous flowers: Monk's Hood, _cerbera_ kernels, hemlock, foxglove (which served as both medicinal and poisonous). I picked a bit of belladonna for my own convoluted and twisted purposes of growing some in the front yard. Moriko and Hiro had started out these little out of the way gardens as both a romantic and practical thing a few years ago—the moist and warm Konoha air just did the rest of the magic and let the plants grow. For me, however, I was lazy and didn't feel like venturing through the forest for a couple hours just to pick some flowers.

The beams of sunlight from before had faded into dim threads of light, weakly filtering through the trees. I opted to take the village home, since I didn't want to be caught in the woods at dark. Gods only knew what beasts would emerge and decide that I looked like breakfast.

The district was abuzz under the orange light of the sky. Lanterns and lightbulbs lit the area, chatter filling the space between the stores. I picked my way around the people, ducking under arms and swinging hands, all while doing my best not to drop any of my load, lest someone find one of the poisonous plants and end up dying because of me.

Diligently, I kept my eyes glued ahead of me on the road. I totally would have made it home okay, but suddenly a force crashed into me and all I saw was black.

* * *

╮(╯▽╰)╭

* * *

Irritated, I found myself on the floor. I swatted away the excess amounts of black cloth the person was wearing that draped my vision. Seriously, this person was wearing so much fabric that he could have made like, five pirate ship sails.

"Ah, sorry kid! Should have watched where I was going." Sheepishly, the other guy—who looked to be eighteen—rubbed the back of his head. I eyed him balefully, and scanned the floor for my basket. I found it a couple of feet behind me, its contents spilled on to the floor. Following the direction of my stare, the cloaked guy jumped to his feet. "Oh Kami, I did that, didn't I? Let me help!"

Gah, hearing that _kami_ thing was weird as shit. Nope, I'll stick to my own religious blasphemy, thank you very much.

"You'd better not," I warned blandly. "Half of those plants will kill you where you stand if you don't handle them properly." He froze, his hand hovering above a sprig of water hemlock, which by all rights looked like a harmless group of white blossoms atop a thin, sturdy stem.

I gave him a thin smile, which I would imagine to be rather sinister on a four-year old. In as sweet of a voice as possible, I said, "That one would overstimulate your brain and cause a seizure. Even if you survived, you may develop a case of amnesia." Grinning inwardly at his horrified look, I got up and began gathering the herbs and replacing them into the basket. Medicinal on the bottom, and gingerly handled poisonous plants on the top.

Peeking from the curtain of hair which fell to cover my eyes, I studied the guy. He had a crown of plain coffee brown hair that stuck up from his head. His eyes were only a shade darker, wide-set and almost innocent looking. The black cloak-like thing he wore hid the rest of his body, but judging from the bone structure in his face, he was probably on the thinner side, lithe, and probably couldn't pack on excess muscles even if he tried—which was fine, since he seemed overwhelmingly average, and extra muscle would've looked strange on his lanky frame. I didn't really recognize him as a character from the series. He stood to the side awkwardly, flustered, unsure of what to make of the four year old girl with the deadpan expression.

I would like to add the fact that I'm normally not this bitchy, but I was tired from the long walk on my short legs, and still irritated that I had to position all of the herbs—again—to prevent possible contamination.

"I'm really sorry," he said, still a bit flustered. "I was on my way back from taking my jōnin exams, and I was freaking out, so I didn't really look." He chuckled nervously. "I'm Hita Sawada, by the way."

"Rin Nohara," I murmured. Nope, I definitely had no clue who he was. Probably an unimportant extra guy in the background, then. Wasn't too surprising really, with how populated Konoha was.

Hita Sawada extended his hand to help me up, as a peace offering. I accepted, clutching my basket with the other hand.

He really did seem sorry. He also seemed like an absolute dork, so I took it as my sacred duty to troll him.

"So," I hummed with mischievous delight, "the jōnin-to-be is still clumsy enough to be running into little kids, hmm?

"I said I was sorry! You try taking the jōnin exams and not freaking out!"

I grinned. "As soon as I graduate from the Academy, I will, dear Sawada-san."

Hita gave me a look. "You're an Academy student?"

"Mm, not yet. I'm applying as soon as I can."

"You know," Hita said slowly, and glanced back from the way he came, then back to me. "The Academy is actually open for new initiates, because of the tensions with the other villages. They've begun allowing applications from younger kids. Relations are getting more intense."

I blinked, absorbing this new information. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, class starts in about a week or so. You should apply, or you might end up waiting another year."

I contemplated. Sure, my schedule was kind of busy because of herbalism and chakra training with my parents, but I didn't want to possibly miss getting into the same class as all of the other relevant students/characters. Besides, I was studying one subject to the point where I was beginning to examine every strain of vegetation that I crossed, even if it was a cluster of weeds on the pathway to the rest of the districts.

"Maybe I'll go tomorrow," I decided. I looked at the direction my home was in. The sky was dark now, the street lit only by the lanterns and bright stores.

Following my line of sight, Hita asked, "Nohara-san, where are you going? Please tell me you're not on your way to go sell your poisons to a murderer. That would be really bad."

I could feel an unholy and impish grin forming. "I make no promises. I'm on my way to the Nohara Apothecary."

Hita raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that two districts over?" I shrugged.

"Well, I'd have made more progress, but I got knocked over by some idiot who wasn't paying attention." I couldn't help it. Hita was _way_ too easy to tease.

" _I said I was sorry!"_ He ran a hand through his hair. I watched as his tufts of hair folded under his hands before they sprang upright again. "Look, it's really dark, I'll walk you home so you don't get killed by your poison client's rival or something."

Blinking as doe-like and innocently as possible, I reached into my pocket and displayed Hiro's poison darts. "But Sawada-san, that's what these are for."

Hita stared. Then he muttered something under his breath about "crazy demonic kid who would fit in perfectly with the Spartan tutors at the Academy".

* * *

╮(╯▽╰)╭

* * *

Hita dropped me right off at home, and asked if he needed to walk me to the Academy tomorrow.

Such a gentleman he was.

I declined, citing that I was a big girl and could stab someone in the neck with a dart if they crossed me. He left, calling back that he'd be checking up on me to make sure that I hadn't inadvertently caused someone's murder.

I wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but I appreciated the gesture.

Hiro wasn't the least bit surprised at how late I had come home. He gladly took my harvest and began putting them on the drying racks.

Meanwhile, I planted the belladonnas in the backyard. I opted against the front yard, just in case a kid came along and decided the purple-black berries looked delicious enough to eat.

When I pushed the blowdart set back to Hiro, he waved it off and told me to keep it. Said it might help if I was dealing with unsavory people. He restocked the darts' poison storage with a blend of ground poppy seeds and an extract of Angel's Trumpets; the former acted as a narcotic, and the latter was a potent hallucinogen, but had been diluted enough to not actually cause convulsions and kill.

Hiro was a fucking badass when it came to poisons.

When I brought up the Academy's opening, he was totally cool with it. With a mischievous grin of his own, he added that the blowdart could be put to good use to boys who might ask me on dates.

Moriko was scheduled to be out up until tomorrow, tending to a mission just on Konoha's outskirts as a medic, but Hiro figured that she would probably approve of my attending the Academy.

The next day, before going to the Academy, I left a note at the orphanage for Yugao, who would _probably_ see it before next week.

Seriously, where the hell did she go all this time?

There wasn't much trouble there, only a seven year old boy who, while promising to give Yugao my note whenever she deigned to return home, very sternly warned me that if I had any intentions of harming her, he would come and find me. He even used his height advantage—a whole five inches—to tower over me, totally adding to the intimidation factor.

No, really. I was quaking in my sandals.

I proceeded to head over to the Academy. The walk was a long and tedious thing, but walking felt easier here. Maybe it was the practice of always treading through forest paths, but my feet didn't seem to drag on the packed-down dirt roads the way they did in my last life. I assumed the excess chakra in everything made things easier, but I'd have to find a way to look into that later.

Really, I would very much love to say that my first visit to the Academy was a most interesting experience, that there was some magical experience and on my way there I somehow met Madara Uchiha, or like, Jesus. But that would be a lie.

In reality, it was a dull walk to a fairly informal folding table situated outside of the front entrance. Two bored chūnins sat at the desk, their backs hunched and their eyes lazy. They idly chatted, barely even glancing at me as they passed over the admissions form.

Seriously? Back in my old world, you had to be freaking eighteen, but here a bloody four year old could sign up all willy-nilly?

Social security here sucks ass.

I scrawled out and completed most of the student info portion before I realized I'd wrote a good deal of in in sloppy English letters. Scowling, I tore up the paper before the chūnins could see the English writing, and snatched another paper and filled it in with my even sloppier Japanese. Signing the bottom of the form with a shaky signature, I straightened, dumped the packet of papers in the bin, and went about my way.

So no, I did _not,_ in fact, have a magical time at the Academy, nor did I really run into anyone spectacular on my way there.

I _did,_ however, run into someone spectacular on my way _back._

"What the actual _fuck,"_ I snarled from my place on the ground. Yep, ladies and gentlemen, I had quite literally run into someone, cliché as it was. What can I say, I really did have a talent for getting hit by things; people, branches, cars…

"Ah! I'm so sorry!" For a minute, I almost thought it was Hita Sawada, since the voice was so flustered and panicky. But no, it was higher-pitched, and there was more terror in his voice then there ought to have been, and Hita certainly wasn't that short. I squinted at the offending human.

There, also having been knocked flat on his back, was Obito Uchiha.

I can tell you, never have I cursed anyone more than the fanfiction writer of the universe at that very moment.

Obito looked different in real life. Sure, he had his ridiculous orange goggles, though they were still far too large for his tiny face at the moment. They hung like a huge, supersized necklace, which constantly obstructed his chin. His face, much like mine, was loaded with baby fat. Soft, fine tufts of dark hair was still growing from his head, quite like Hita's. His eyes, no matter what the manga/anime/anyone else would tell you (I look to you, Universe Fanfiction Writer), weren't a deep fathomless onyx, they were a deep, dark brown, only shades above black.

Those very eyes, the eyes that were meant to cause the end of the world, were luminous with tears of pain and distress.

Obito stammered, "I-I-I'm so sor-sorry!"

I found that even I couldn't glower and curse at him. He was simply too much of a cinnamon roll; that is to say, he was too good, to pure for this world.

Instead, I picked myself up, and dusted off the dirt from the packed road. I stepped over, and offered him my hand.

Obito stared at the hand as though it was a foreign object he'd never seen before in his life. At that point, I didn't really see him as one of the two boys who would basically define my future, but I saw a little neglected kid with far too many expectations piled on his shoulders. Really, someone like him should only have his giant goggles to weigh him down.

I spied a crinkled sheet of paper in his grasp, and barely recognized it as the admissions form for the Academy. I quirked a smile of amusement.

"You might want to hurry up," I mused. His eyes flicked up to my face in confusion. I added, "The Academy administration session ends soon."

The poor boy's eyes widened with panic before he cried, " I have to go! Ah, what if they don't believe me when I tell them that a black cat crossed my path and I had to come from the longer route?"

Obito continued his long, long rant of things that could go wrong, from his soul being cursed by the black cat, or that he'd never be a shinobi and be a disappointment to his clan.

I tapped him on the shoulder. "Er, instead of panicking, maybe you should just…" I gestured towards the building.

His eyes locked on the building. "Right! Sorry again!" He set down the path, kicking up a trail of dust in the air.

I swear, I've never seen anyone run that fast.

With a dismissive shrug, I turned and began walking home.

Fuck that, I didn't feel like doing any more fate-deciding today.

* * *

 ***winces* Okay. I know that you all waited a long time for this, and I know it's kinda sorta disappointing. But before you guys throw various heavy and painful objects at me, I would like to say that I totally have excuses!**

 **1\. School. I just got outta it, and am now totally free for another six months before I begin attending university. But ugh, exams, and huge projects were just generally painful and time-consuming.**

 **2\. I got my first job back in November, which basically just ate all of my time. I work in a tea store~ [insert cutesy sterotypical Asian pose here]. Lots of fun, but very, very detrimental to my free-time schedule.**

 **3\. Art portfolio. Gah, I just finished that in the last week of February, but good God, I hope all that trouble was worth it.**

 **4\. Writer's block. I'm pretty sure I had written out the first half of this like, three months ago? Four months? It's just, I never knew what to do for this chapter, and even now I still find it more or less bland. But hey, at least it got the job done and introduced the needed characters, ne~? There shall most certainly be more from Obito and dear Hita Sawada, trust me.**

 **Ugh, generally I try aiming for about 5,000 words per chapter, but it's been killing me slowly on the inside to even _try_ to stretch this. Currently it stands at approximately 3,290 words (not including A/N). So I'll leave it here, and desperately attempt to finish the next chapter soon, now that I have so much free time~**

 **Anyway! Next time, on Out Cold~** ** _The Academy._** **It's coming.**

 **Question: What eats up all of your free time? I'm sure I'm not the worst-case out there.**

 **Review, 'cause it's my birthday in a week~!**


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